HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  “That’ll leave a nasty scar. Every time you look at it, remember what I told you.” I lifted my boot from his neck. “Use your shirt for a tourniquet.”

  I folded my knife and clipped it to my pocket.

  “If you scream or stand up while I’m walking away, I’ll come back here and cut your fuckin’ throat, understood?”

  He did his best to nod.

  “You’ll hear a loud motorcycle pull away in a minute. When you can’t hear it any longer, you can get up.”

  As I rode away, I was proud of the man I was.

  And of the man I hoped to become.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Tegan

  I ran to the door, fully expecting it to be Marcus. Without peering through the peep-hole, I pulled it open.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. I took every inch of him in, one inch at a time. I stole one more quick look at his face, just to make sure it was him. I opened my mouth slightly.

  And then, it hit me. Why he was in front of me looking the way he did. It was clear.

  My hands shot up and covered my mouth. My tongue had gone completely dry, but somehow, I swallowed. And then, again.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked softly, trying to stay calm. My voice was barely audible. Deep inside, I was furious.

  It could only be one thing.

  He nodded nervously. “Uh. Yeah. Everything okay with you?”

  My heart had risen into my tightening throat. I swallowed against the dry lump, and looked back at him, confused.

  “Everything’s okay?”

  He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and nodded, grinning the entire time. “Yep.”

  I wouldn’t have guessed shaving would have made such a difference, but it did.

  A huge one.

  I reached for my pockets, and then realized I was wearing pajamas. As I twisted my hips back and forth, I admired him. He looked remarkable. His hands were clasped together at his waist, and as my eyes became fixated on them, I noticed something else, too.

  I felt every ounce of available blood rushed between my legs. The surge of emotion hit me like a freight train.

  “Come in,” I said. “Please.”

  I needed to sit, before I fell.

  I walked soft-footed into the living room and sat in the chair across from the couch. I crossed my legs and pointed to the other side of the room. “Have a seat.”

  I felt my nipples hardening against the inside of my shirt, the fabric feeling like sandpaper against them. Self-conscious, but incapable of changing it, I folded my arms and fought to remain straight-faced. “What possessed you to do that?”

  “A lot of things,” he said.

  “Like?”

  He smiled until dimples showed, and at that moment, I was even more pleased that he’d cut his hair. I melted into the seat a little.

  He shrugged. The smile stayed plastered on his face. “Just wanted to make a change.”

  He reached into his vest, and winced when he did. When he pulled his hand out, he was holding a blue envelope. “Can you give this to Marcus?”

  As I took the envelope from his grasp, I noticed his hand was covered in lacerations and puncture wounds.

  “What happened to your hand?”

  “Dumped my bike.”

  “Oh my God! You just got it fixed.”

  “I was on the Sporty. My bike’s okay.” He looked at his knuckles. “It’s no biggie. They’ll heal.”

  I looked at the envelope. Marcus was hand-written on the outside.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Again. The smile. “Nothing. Just. I got him a get well card.”

  “You got Marcus a get well card?”

  He nodded.

  I melted a little more. A lot more, really.

  I needed him to leave. In fact, I needed him to grow his hair and the beard back. I was beside myself, and needed all my former thoughts and feelings to return.

  Immediately.

  They protected me.

  “Tried to pick out a funny one. There ain’t that many to pick from, though. Not good ones.”

  I wanted to cry.

  Marcus was an important part of my life, and I wondered what Pee Bee’s thoughts would be about him if they met. Upon seeing them interact, I was pleased. Now?

  I was astonished.

  “I’ll uhhm.” I clutched the card. “I’ll give it to him. So, that’s why you stopped by?”

  His smile returned, as did his dimples. “No. Not exactly.”

  Gorgeous.

  You are gorgeous.

  And dangerous.

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees. He lifted his chin slightly and met my gaze.

  Naturally, I, too, leaned forward. My hardened nipples ripped at the thin material of my shirt. A tingling ran through me, causing me to shiver.

  “This is weird,” he said.

  Mood killer alert.

  With the card clenched in my fingertips, and my eyes locked on his, I gawked at him. His full lips – which was something I had never really noticed when he had his beard – came together, and then parted slightly.

  Don’t talk. Just sit there.

  “I uhhm…I was wondering if you…if you’d want to…” he stammered.

  He sat up straight, stood, and then folded his arms in front of his chest. “Will you go out on a date with me?”

  Date? What?

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. My dry mouth returned. My heart raced. The blood rushed to my lower regions.

  Somehow, despite his handsome new look – and my desire to jump his bones – the sensible side of me prevailed. At least for the moment.

  “I uhhm. I’m flattered.” I uncrossed my legs, and then crossed them again. It wasn’t going to be easy to tell him no. “But, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  I set the card on the end table and tried not to look at him. It didn’t work. Not completely, anyway. “If I agreed, we’d go on a date. We’d have sex. And, at some point, I’d fall in love with you. And then, you’d leave. In that order. That’s what happens.”

  “I won’t leave.”

  “You will, after the sex. And, it hurts,” I said. “Each time a man leaves a woman, he takes a piece of her heart with him when he goes. The next man comes along, and takes another piece, this time a big one. And then, she meets another. And he takes a piece. One day we look up and we’ve got this shriveled little sliver of a heart left, and that’s all we’ve got to offer. After that, the men we meet call us bitches and cunts, and man haters. They think we’re hardened, but we’re not. It’s just that we’re heartless. And we’re heartless because of you. Because of men.”

  With his face covered in disbelief, he stared back at me.

  “And.” I shrugged. “You’re a man.”

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  “You can’t say that.”

  “I just did.”

  “But you can’t.”

  “It’s just a date. You might not even--”

  “To you? To you, it’s just a date. To me it’s another chance. You’ll pull on your jeans, lace up your boots, and put on a clean tee shirt. Five minutes, tops. Me? I’ll spend three hours getting ready, and I’ll try on every article of clothing I own until I find one that I’m convinced is the one. And while we’re on the date, you’ll be wanting it to end, so we can come back here and have sex. Me? I’ll be wishing it could somehow last forever, because being on that date with you convinces me that I’m special.”

  He flopped onto the couch and looked at me with convincing eyes. Convincing brown eyes with irresistible specks of green woven throughout.

  “Don’t let yourself fall in love until you’re sure,” he said, his tone as convincing as his eyes. “Until then, no sex.”

  He was persistent, which I liked. I melted some more, but just a little. It was nothing to worry about. Yet.

  “No sex.” A laugh burst from my lips. “I l
ove sex. Love it. So, it’s not that simple. And, guys like you are way too easy to fall in love with. Girls like me do it all the time.”

  A crease formed on his brow. “What’s a guy like me?”

  I watched as I used my toe to scribe letters into in the rug’s fibers. “You know you’re good-looking, and you use it to your advantage. You step into our lives all handsome and charming, and you screw girls like me – the loyal servants that’ll do anything to please their man – then you disappear.” I wiped away my design with my bare foot, and then looked up. “And we’re left to wonder what we did wrong.”

  “I used to be like that, but I’m not anymore.”

  “I don’t think I can take that chance. I can’t lose another man from my life. Or another piece of my heart. I think it’d kill me.”

  “If I’ve got to live the rest of my life wondering what could have been, I think it’d kill me.”

  “I just…”

  He stood. My eyes followed him.

  He crossed his massive tattooed arms. I read the inscriptions on his forearms and decided I liked them.

  He inhaled a deep breath, and then let out an audible sigh. “When we met? I’m not going to lie. All I could think about was fucking you. I wanted to fuck you out of spite. Out of anger. I wanted to do bad things to you because I was mad about what you did to my bike. In the past, that was my answer. I never did one thing with a woman that I was proud of. Now? Now I can’t imagine doing anything to you but treating you with respect.”

  He shrugged. “Give me a chance?”

  I stood up. “Let’s give it a try.”

  God, I hope this doesn’t come back to bite me.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  He lifted me from my feet no differently than a parent would lift a child. Then, he held me.

  What little of me hadn’t already, melted into a puddle beneath my feet.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Pee Bee

  Five minutes tops, my ass.

  I looked in the mirror. The jeans were old, faded, and worn to the point the thighs were almost transparent. I threw them on the floor beside the others and grabbed another pair from the shelf.

  The last pair.

  As I pulled them on I realized why they were at the bottom of the stack. An ancient pair that were left from my college football days, they were far too baggy in the thighs, and fit me loose in the waist.

  I looked like the clown that my father claimed I was.

  Fuck.

  I was supposed to pick her up in an hour.

  Frustrated, I released the waist of the jeans. They fell to my feet. I grabbed one of the many pair from the pile, pulled them on, and threaded my belt through the loops. After stuffing my feet into my boots, I did a half-assed job of lacing them up and rushed to the garage.

  Finding a pair of jeans is easy for someone of normal size. For me? It can be close to impossible, especially in a hurry.

  My first stop offered plenty of options.

  As long as I didn’t mind capris.

  “You might try Casual Male XL,” she said apologetically. “Sorry.”

  I looked at my watch. “I’ve got to pick her up in 40 minutes. Where is it?”

  “Off of 5, at Midway and Rosecrans. By Sea World.”

  It would be on my way to her house. “They’ve got shit that’ll fit me?”

  She nodded. “Oh yeah. They carry everything from Ralph Lauren to--”

  I took off toward the door in a dead run. “Appreciate ya,” I shouted over my shoulder.

  Splitting lanes, I shot south on 5 at over 100 miles an hour. If anyone changed lanes or decided to open their door, I’d be splattered all over the highway. I grinned at the thought of how Tegan and I met, and couldn’t help but laugh to myself at how angry I was at first.

  With twenty minutes left, I pulled into the empty parking lot.

  A lanky saleswoman who resembled a Victoria’s Secret runway model met me at the door.

  She looked at me and grinned. Her eyes fell to my boots, and then slowly rose the length of my frame. “Hi welcome to Casual--”

  “Got an emergency,” I said. “I have to be somewhere in twenty minutes, and I need ten to get there. Need a pair of jeans.”

  “And a shirt?”

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  “You won’t be wearing the…” she wagged her finger at my kutte.

  “Yeah, I will.”

  She looked disgusted. “Why?”

  I wasn’t in the mood to explain the MC’s rules to the judgmental cunt, nor was it any of her fucking business. “Thirty-eight-inch inseam, thirty-four-inch waist. What are my options?”

  She grinned a mischievous grin. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yep.”

  She studied me for a few seconds, and then appeared to have an epiphany. “Oh my God. You’re the guy. You were on that reality show. The one with the guys and girls that all lived together and--”

  “Yep. That was me.” I wasn’t in the mood. “Look. I’m in a hurry.”

  She looked disappointed. “You said thirty-eight. You look like a forty.”

  I sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”

  “Let me measure you.”

  “Just get me a few options in thirty-four, forty.”

  She turned away and promptly returned with a fabric measuring tape. She stepped to the side of the aisle and motioned for me to come to her.

  Wedged between two SALE displays with the tape dangling from her fingertips, she rested her elbow at her side and cocked her hip. “Relax your stance.”

  “I’m relaxed.”

  She nodded toward my feet. “Feet closer together. Arms at your sides, please.”

  “I just need--”

  She knelt in front of me, and then slowly ran her hand along the inside of my thigh, keeping her eyes locked on mine the entire time. As the back side of her fingers grazed against the tip of my cock, she raised both eyebrows slightly.

  She glanced at my crotch – which was where her fingertips rested – and widened her eyes.

  I looked away and forced out an exaggerated sigh.

  Her chest barely cleared mine as she stood. With her face merely inches from mine, she let out a slight breath and then took half a step back.

  She reached forward and gripped my biceps lightly. “Sorry, I kind of stumbled.”

  Her eyes darted from my arms to my chest, and then to my face. “You’re big.”

  Normally, I would have taken her into the dressing room with me and stuffed her full of dick.

  Instead, I felt like I’d been molested.

  I found her actions and attitude beyond annoying. Convinced I was cheating on my promise to my father, and on my commitment to myself to become more honorable, I looked for an opportunity to fix it.

  There was only one way out.

  “I didn’t come here to get molested,” I said matter-of-factly. I pulled my arms away from her grasp and crossed them. “I came here for a pair of jeans.”

  She swallowed heavily.

  I looked at my watch. “I’ve got six minutes.”

  Her face blushed bright red. “I was just--”

  “Can you grab me some jeans? Please?”

  She let out a sigh. “Relaxed fit? Casual? Loose? Straight?”

  “I’ve got a date.” I shrugged.

  “What will she be wearing?”

  “Jeans.” I thought about it, considered that we’d be riding on the bike, and nodded. “Jeans, or shorts.”

  She smiled. “Describe her.”

  “She hates men, but she’s giving me a chance.” I shrugged one shoulder. “She’s got an adorable smile and brown eyes. But, she’s quick to talk shit. It’s our first date. Whatever you think would look nice.”

  She returned with six pairs of jeans and three folded tee shirts. “Take a look at those. The Ralph Lauren’s will fit nice, and the True--”
r />   “You got a dressing room?”

  “Let me get a key.”

  She walked away.

  I glanced at my watch.

  Fuck!

  I needed to leave.

  I checked over each shoulder, and then looked around. There were a few people scattered about, but otherwise, the large store was empty. Still hidden between the two SALE racks, I kicked off my boots, unbuckled my belt, and dropped my jeans to the floor.

  I’d never been a modest man.

  Standing naked from the waist down, I picked the darkest pair of jeans and pulled them on.

  They were long enough, but very low-waisted. The inseam hit me hard in the nuts, and the thighs were so tight it looked like I was trying to smuggle a banana.

  I pried them off, kicked them aside, and glanced around. So far, no one was the wiser.

  The next pair, another dark pair with horizontal streaks in the fabric of the upper thighs, were modern looking and fit nicely.

  I slipped on my boots and checked the length.

  Perfect.

  I tried on the first tee shirt, a black V-neck. It was fitted, and the perfect size. After getting my wallet and knife from my old jeans, I folded them and tucked them under my arm. A quick survey of the store produced no stares.

  No sales lady, either.

  After tossing two $100 bills on the floor by the stack of clothes, I rushed out to my bike. Seven minutes later, I was parking the bike in front of Tegan’s apartment.

  With two minutes to spare.

  I stepped to the door, inhaled a deep breath, and knocked twice. It opened.

  She stood with her purse tucked under her arm, grinning.

  “I like your jeans, are they new?”

  “Yeah.”

  I stared at her.

  I couldn’t help it.

  Her hair was curled and pinned up, but not in tight a bun. Strands of twisted locks dangled loosely on each side of her face, and a few fell across her forehead. Her jeans were tight from her hips to her ankles, accentuating every curve her body so gracefully formed. Her tee shirt was adorned with a few random shimmery jewels throughout the intricate design, and hugged her like a glove.

  On her feet, a worn pair of sneakers.

  She was breathtaking, but her shoes looked out of place.

  “Is everything okay?”